


the mirror is a lie

by peachsneakers



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Analoceit - Freeform, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: Logan has an eating disorder.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 27
Kudos: 206





	the mirror is a lie

**Author's Note:**

> for anon prompt: "Okay so: analoceit with V or Lo (you pick which) who struggles with an ed(specifically ana). problem is no one knows because they've never "followed though" with it because they fight it all the time(bonus if fighting it is 'easier' bc they fight s/h / suididal thoughts anyway) so they have to barely keep together everytime someone mentions their weight bc they're 'chubby' (no unsymp anyone please) and they get soft affection and comfort from the boyfs sorry if this doesn't make sense"
> 
> song lyrics are from "empty" by jaiden and boyinaband

_Mirror mirror on the wall, yeah_   
_Tunnel vision on the flaws_   
_In the scale of things it's unimportant_   
_So no talking, but it's still an intrusive thought_

It isn't logical. He _knows_ that. He knows his routine isn't very logical, either. It's fine when he wakes up and brushes his teeth (for precisely two minutes, and he always uses the same amount of spearmint-flavored toothpaste on the medium-firm bristles). Dressing doesn't take long- it isn't like he's some kind of fashion icon. The most complicated step is fixing his tie, and at this point, he could probably do it in his sleep. The next step the others know about is breakfast and he _will_ get there, but before that step, Logan has a secret one.

And it's one he knows isn't very rational at all.

He stands in front of the mirror in his attached bathroom. It's a full-sized mirror, lingering on all his flaws in painful detail. He lifts up his shirt, exploring the contours of his pudgy stomach with ruthless fingers, squeezing and pinching until he frowns at the sting. He welcomes it, too, though, because if he were better at this, he would have nothing to grab. _Don't eat_ thumps in tune with his heartbeat as he tucks his shirt back in and runs a comb through his hair. That thought's not logical, either. He needs to eat. Well, he doesn't technically need to- none of the sides need to eat, they aren't _real_ that way- but they perform better if they do. It helps Thomas when they eat and how can Logan deny that?

"Chocolate chip waffles!" Patton chirps in response to Roman's inquiry as Logan makes his way downstairs, heading straight for the coffee pot. He has to get there first, or Patton will serve him sugar and cream ~~just the way he likes it~~ and he knows he only deserves it black.

Staring down at a plate filled with three waffles, Logan feels sick. He doesn't want to eat any of it. Even breathing the aromatic air above it feels laden with empty calories. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, pretending he doesn't see Virgil's and Janus's concerned looks, to either side of him. He cuts off a piece of waffle with his fork and raises it to his lips, chewing automatically. It feels like he's eating chocolate-scented couch stuffing.

"Are you all right?" Janus asks him, softly, under the clamor of the others. Logan tightly nods, but he knows that it's not reassuring. He wouldn't believe it either. ~~_Today was supposed to be a good day._~~

_Been getting even worse_   
_All the days begin to merge, yeah_   
_Just a blurry haze and now it's_   
_Almost second nature to ignore the urges_

It gets worse that night. Dinner is shrimp alfredo pasta, heavy and cloying. Logan feels his throat narrow to a pinhole as he attempts to shovel it down. He wishes he could blame the sensation on a shellfish allergy. He knows it's not.

The others choose a movie to watch. He isn't sure what it is. Some Disney movie, naturally. With Roman around, it's hard to choose anything else, although technically, they all get an opportunity to pick a movie throughout the week. Logan's choices are rarely approved of by more than Janus and Virgil (and occasionally Remus, oddly enough).

"Can I sit by you, Lo?" Patton asks. "You make the best pillow!" He doesn't mean anything by it, Logan tries to convince himself, static roaring in his ears. Don't be irrational. It's a simple question, Logan, it only requires a simple answer.

"Of course, Pat," he croaks out, through dry lips. "I'll be right back." He walks up the stairs- walks, but doesn't run- and he doesn't notice the glance his boyfriends exchange, nor the similar string of excuses made as they trail behind him.

When he reaches his room and the door is safely tucked shut, he collapses by the foot of his bed, doubling in on himself and cursing every inch of his disturbing fat, squishy body. He doesn't have to be this way. He _shouldn't_ be this way. He wouldn't be this way if he wasn't such a _coward_. He drives his fists into the tops of his thighs as hard as he can, relishing the pain. He doesn't hear the door behind him open, or the twin intakes of breath seeing him disheveled on the floor, muttering self-hatred into his lap.

_I can reach out_   
_To someone not like me_   
_I can help my mind learn to trust my body_

"Lo-" and Virgil is there, softly coaxing him back into purple-clad arms, and Janus is facing him, concern bright in mismatched eyes, and then it all blurs in a wash of kaleidoscope colors, and Logan realizes he's crying.

"I just-" He stops, hiccuping and hating himself for it.

"Take your time," Janus quietly encourages. "No one here is judging you, Logan. No one is pressuring you. Take as long as you need."

"I hate myself," Logan blurts out. "I'm sorry, I know it's not logical, but I-" He stops again. Virgil rubs slow, soothing circles on the tops of his hands, steadying him. He can feel Virgil's breath stirring his hair.

"I hate myself," he repeats, starting anew. "I hate my body. It's disgusting. It's too fat. It's wrong. I should look more like Thomas and I don't. I- I like Crofters too much and I hate it and I wish that Thomas had never found that jam brand in the first place because maybe that was the start of my downward spiral and maybe I wouldn't be this way if it wasn't for Crofters." He shakes his head, staring at the floor.

"We love you," Janus says. "No matter what you look like, Lo. _We love you._ I could stay here a thousand years and never run out of things to say about how much I admire you _and_ your body. But I know that self-hatred and body dysmorphia aren't so easily shaken." He looks down at ungloved hands and Logan can see the spattering of scales there.

"I love you and I love your body," Virgil chimes in. "And whatever we can do to help, we want to."

"You- you do?" Logan stammers in surprise. Janus scoots closer, taking one of Logan's hands.

"Of course we do," Janus says. "You're our boyfriend. We might not have taken wedding vows but I, for one, still apply that whole 'sickness and in health' thing."

"Even if it takes months? Or- or years?" Logan asks.

"Even if it takes eternity," Virgil says. "You're worth it, Logan."

The world goes out of focus again, thanks to another steady wash of tears, but Logan can't bring himself to care.

"Do you want to go back to the movie?" Janus asks, a long while later. Logan nestles himself deeper in Virgil's arms.

"If it's with you two, I'll go anywhere," he says. "Thank you."


End file.
